A Different Sort of Life
by justaclassicgirl
Summary: [ALL MY UNCOMPLETED STORIES ARE ON HIATUS, GO TO MY PROFILE TO FIND OUT MORE.] Sequel to "Lovesick or Something More", READ THAT FIRST. Harry and Hermione are trying to adjust to being new parents and newlyweds (all of which happened in the span of a few days). Follow them on their journey through the ups and downs of marriage and parenthood, with their friends by their sides.
1. Chapter 1: Bedtime Stories

Hihi! It's ME, justaclassicgirl, with my new obsession distraction multichapter.

"A Different Sort of Life" is the *highly anticipated* (but not really) sequel to my very first multichapter, "Lovesick or Something More". If you have read it, skip ahead to the story. If you haven't, I seriously suggest you leave this story and read it first, because you may be confused at some points in the story if you haven't read it before.

So, if you haven't read LOSM, GO DO THAT. If you have, ENJOY! :D

~justaclassicgirl

* * *

A Different Sort of Life

Chapter 1: Bedtime Stories

The piercing wail of a baby awoke Harry Potter and his wife, Hermione Potter, with a start at 2 am on June 7th.

Harry rolled over and groaned. Hermione sighed, yawned, and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. These early morning wakeup calls would take some getting used to.

Harry and Hermione's daughter, Rosella, had been born just days before on June 2nd. She was declared perfectly healthy, despite complications with the miscarriage of her twin brother while she was still in the womb. Hermione had carried her to term.

Well, mostly to term, anyway.

For Rosella was born the day after her parents' wedding, when she wasn't due for another three weeks. But the prematurity of this birth wasn't enough to land her in an incubator, and mother and child were released after a mere two days in the hospital.

But enough about that. Now we must return to Hermione, and how irritated she was at waking up so early yet again.

"It's not that I don't love her," Hermione thought as she trudged out of her room and down the hall. "I do! But as far as I remember it, I am the one who pushed her out of a hole in MY body less than a quarter of her size. I deserve SOME kind of a break!"

Oh, Hermione. Let us take a moment to sigh for her as she finally realizes that parenthood is never what you are expecting.

Hermione pushed open the door with the pink "Rosie" plaque on it, which barely muffled the noise from the crying baby within. She rushed over to the crib and lifted her daughter out, bouncing her gently.

"Hey, sweetie, what's the matter, hm? Why did you wake Mummy up so early?"

The baby girl just cried.

"Do you need a change?" Hermione lifted Rosie up and sniffed her diaper. "No, that's not it...Oh! You must be hungry!"

Rosie wailed in response.

"Shhhh. Shhhhhhhhh. I'll feed you, just calm down...calm..."

Hermione kept bouncing her daughter gently as she made her way over to the window seat and sat down. She carefully shifted Rosie to her opposite hip and pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, then brought her daughter back around to eat.

After careful consideration and a plethora of parenting books, Hermione decided to go the breastfeeding route. Health benefits aside, there was something magical (no pun intended) about holding your child there, and the bond built between mother and child from conception strengthened with breastfeeding.

As Rosie sucked happily, her eyes shut and hands flapping around, Hermione was already eying the bookshelf. She knew that after this, the only way to get her daughter to sleep would be to read to her. For, even at only a few days old, Rosie was already showing her mother's love of literature. Most parents sang lullabies to their children to get them to sleep, but Hermione and Harry read to theirs.

She heard a sound, and looked up. Harry was leaning against the doorframe, a small smile on his face.

"Everything okay here?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded, gesturing to the baby in her arms, who was quietly eating her fill. Then, a pensive look spread across her face. "Actually, do you want to read to her tonight?"

He grinned like an excited child, and hurried himself to the bookshelf to pick tonight's story.

Rosie finished off with a last, loud suck that resonated like a POP! and gave a contented sigh. Hermione chuckled, shifted Rosie so that she was holding the baby slightly over her shoulder, and began to pat her gently on the back and bounce her up and down. As she did this, Hermione made her way over to the bookshelf where Harry was trying to choose the perfect book.

He ran a hand through his messy bed-hair and groaned. "There are too many!" he said.

Hermione smiled. "Why don't we let Rosie choose for us?" she asked, and swung the baby around.

"Can you pick a book for Mummy and Daddy to read to you, Rosie?" she cooed to the baby. The little girl gurgled happily, then pointed to a book with certainty. Hermione reached over and took it off the shelf, then opened her mouth in surprise.

The cover read "The Tales of Beedle the Bard".

"Haven't seen that in a while," Harry commented, peering over his wife's shoulder.

"I-I-" Hermione stuttered, at a loss for words.

"What? Mione, it's just a book," Harry said, taking it from her to look at it.

"It's just...I haven't seen it since the horcrux hunt. I didn't even realize it was here..." she trailed off, gazing down at her daughter in her arms who was waiting patiently for her story.

"Oh, yeah, I'd always enjoyed the stories, especially when you'd read them aloud for us. So, when everything was over, I took the book because you didn't seem to want it. When we were putting books in Rosie's room, I remembered about this one and I put it on the shelf with the others," Harry explained. "Even if she turns out to not be magical, it'll be good for her to learn about her magical heritage."

"Harry, it's a children's storybook that just happens to be for wizard children. You sound like me, with all your talk of 'magical heritage'!"

He frowned childishly at her, and she chuckled. "So are you reading to her or not?"

"How about we both do it, so she can have both authentic male and female voices for the characters?"

"First, magical heritage, now gender-authentic voices for a children's storybook. Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?" Hermione laughed.

"You must be rubbing off on me," Harry responded, leaning in for a short kiss.

Sandwiched between her parents' embrace, Rosie made a small pre-crying sound to remind them that she was still waiting for her story so she could go to sleep.

"Oh, no no no, don't cry sweetheart, don't cry," Hermione said, breaking the kiss early to bounce and comfort her daughter. "Let me just..."

She walked over to the window seat and sat down, patting the spot next to her with her free hand. "Come on, Daddy, hurry up!"

To Rosie, she murmured, "Your Daddy's a bit slow."

Rosie giggled a small baby giggle.

"Hey!" Harry said indignantly, sitting down next to her.

Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek. "Just open the book already," she said.

He did so, and then looked at the table of contents. "Which one?" he asked. "Because we're only doing one tonight."

"How about The Wizard and the Hopping Pot?" Hermione said to her daughter. "Would you like that, Rosie?"

The baby scrunched up her face in distaste.

"That's a no," Harry said.

"The Fountain of Fair Fortune?"

The baby's frown deepened.

"No," said Harry.

"Babitty Rabbitty and the Cackling Stump?"

The baby let out a small cry.

"No," said Harry.

"The Warlock's Hairy Heart?

The baby began to wail.

"Definitely not," said Harry.

"Well, I'm certainly not reading her 'The Tale of the Three Brothers!"

As soon as those words were spoken, Rosie stopped crying.

"That looks like a yes to me," Harry remarked.

"But-but-but the story is so-DARK!" Hermione spluttered.

"She's just a baby, Hermione. She won't know what any of these things are anyway. She just likes the sound of our voices."

Hermione muttered "You don't know that" under her breath, but shifted the baby on her arm and turned to the story.

As they read to their daughter, her eyelids drooped lower and lower and her breathing slowed and evened out until finally she was asleep.

"And then, he greeted Death as an old friend, went with him gladly, and as equals, they departed this life," Hermione finished in a whisper of a voice, peering down at her sleeping daughter.

"Looks like that did the trick," Harry whispered to his wife, gazing at their daughter as well.

Hermione stood up slowly, trying not to wake Rosie, and carried her over to her crib. She laid the baby down gently inside it and brushed a kiss over her forehead. Harry followed close behind and did the same as Hermione moved to the door.

The two of them paused in the doorway for a moment, looking over their beautiful sleeping daughter.

"Goodnight, Rosella," Hermione whispered softly.

The two new parents and newlyweds then left to their room to get some sleep, and Harry closed the door gently behind them.

* * *

Feeeeeeedback please!


	2. Chapter 2: A World of Firsts

Okay, so I was so unsure about time frames and stuff, because in the book, Harry's 17 and Hermione's 18 when the final battle ends in 1998, book-verse. Here I had Rosie born when Harry was 25, making her born in 2005 if my math serves to be correct. So the story basically takes place then.

This chapter is three one-shots in sequential order, on the topics of (in this order) Rosie's first Christmas, first word, and first steps. Her first birthday will be the next chapter, because let's be honest, it deserves a chapter all to itself. In the first one she's 5 (almost 6) months, in the second she's 7 months, and in the last one she's 9 months.

~justaclassicgirl

* * *

**December 25, 2005**

"Merry Christmas, Rosie!" Hermione exclaimed with a smile at 1 in the morning on Christmas. Five (almost six)-month-old Rosie had awakened her with a loud cry, begging to be fed, and here she and her husband stood in the nursery. "Your very first!"

"She's not even one, and she's already waking us up too early on Christmas," commented Harry.

Hermione paid him no mind as she fed her daughter, then looked at him suddenly with an alarmed expression on her face. "Did _Father Christmas_ remember the presents?"

A cheeky grin spread across her husband's face. "I don't know, let's go see!"

And with that, he raced over and grabbed his daughter (who giggled and squealed excitedly) out of his startled wife's arms, and ran out of the room and down the stairs.

"HARRY! _Honestly!_" Hermione pulled her robe tighter around her body and started out of the room, shaking her head. But she was smiling.

Downstairs, Hermione grinned at the sight before her.

Harry was sitting on the living room carpet in front of the fireplace, trying to start a fire in it and swearing under his breath when the newspaper wouldn't catch. (But they were silly child-safe swears that never failed to make her laugh when he used them.) He'd placed Rosie nearby, in front of the Christmas tree. The baby was making small noises and reaching wildly for the presents underneath it.

"I'll make some cocoa," Hermione called, heading for the kitchen. "Marshmallows or whipped cream?"

"Whipped cream for me," Harry called back.

When Hermione returned with the mugs, one piled high with marshmallows and one with whipped cream on top, a fire was blazing in the fireplace and the Christmas tree was lit up. The rainbow lights were twinkling magically between the dark green boughs of the trees. Harry was sitting with their daughter now, and their wizard camera around his neck. Ever since she'd bought it for him on his twenty-fifth birthday, mere weeks after Rosie was born, he took pictures of almost everything having to do with her.

"Here you are," she said, handing him the mug. Rosie looked at it enviously.

"_You_ are too young for that," Hermione said.

Rosie frowned.

"_Hermione_, she looks _just like you_," Harry said incredulously.

He snapped a picture, just as she turned towards him and frowned, identical to the one sported by her daughter.

"Let's do presents," she sighed, sinking to the floor with her family.

That night, Rosie acquired five new books, a stuffed flobberworm, a stuffed dragon, and a teddy bear that talked when you squeezed its paw. She would tear off the wrapping paper like a savage, and smiled wider with each opened gift.

When she was finally done, Rosie was moved to the side, as she was getting acquainted with the flobberworm. Harry reached over and took out a small wrapped gift that had been hidden among the other boxes and handed it to Hermione.

"H-Harry?" she whispered. "What's this?"

He nodded towards it. "Open it."

Hands shaking, Hermione removed the wrapping paper to reveal a black box. She opened that too, and gasped.

Inside lay a silver chain, with a small beautiful locket hanging on it. Engraved on it was a small otter, her patronus.

She looked up at Harry, her eyes pooling with tears.

"Well? Open it!" he said, smiling.

Her fingers moved towards the locket. She hadn't imagined that there could be anything in it already.

_Click._

Her eyes fell on the pictures inside, and that was all it took to get her crying.

Hermione launched herself upon Harry, dropping the necklace, and sobbed, "Thank you so much, it's beautiful!"

Harry smiled and kissed the top of her head, then helped her stand up. "Look, it's snowing."

Hermione wiped her tears away and managed a smile, then bent down and picked up her oblivious daughter. Rosie had fallen asleep, the flobberworm held tightly in her tiny hands.

She walked over to Harry, who stood at the large living room window, waiting for her.

"A year ago, I stood here, crying because what Ron said to me wouldn't get out of my head," she murmured softly. "And look at me now."

She stroked her daughter's cheek. "I'm married to the man I was always meant to end up with, I have a beautiful daughter…what more could a girl ask for?"

Harry turned to his wife. "Nothing," he whispered, and leaned in to kiss her.

They pulled apart softly, and the three of them stood together, a family, watching the snow fall.

* * *

**February 17, 2006**

"It's going to be 'Mummy'," said Hermione, sitting on the floor with her seven-month-old daughter in her lap. The baby was reaching her hand up and attempting to grasp the long brown curls of her mother's hair, making contented noises whenever she managed to touch one. "I know she's still a bit too young to be talking, but when she does, I bet you anything her first word will be 'Mummy'."

"No, it's going to be 'Daddy'," said Harry, sitting across from his wife and daughter on the floor with a wizard camera around his neck to snap any important moments.

"Mummy!" said Hermione, a bit more forcefully.

"Daddy!" said Harry, just as forcefully.

"Mummy!"

"Daddy!"

"Book!"

The two parents stopped and stared at the seven-month-old. Rosella gurgled happily and repeated, "Book!" a bit louder.

"We weren't serious..." Harry mumbled as Hermione squealed excitedly about the fact that Rosie's first word was "Book".

"Oh, Rosie, you're a clever one, aren't you?" she beamed, lifting up the baby in the air and bringing her down again to kiss her on the nose. "Mummy raised you well!"

"Book!" responded the baby happily.

"Oh no, there's two of them!" Harry moaned, flopping backwards on the floor in defeat. Hermione laughed, and Rosie smiled and repeated, "Book!" and pointed at the shelf.

Knowing exactly what her daughter wanted, Hermione placed Rosie on the ground gently, allowing her to wriggle around in a pitiful effort to move, and took "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" off of the shelf. She opened the book immediately to "The Tale of the Three Brothers" and began to read.

Harry sat up, having recovered from his "shock", and picked up his daughter and placed her in his lap. She giggled happily, and then looked at her mother, engrossed in the book. Then, she turned around and grabbed at the camera around her father's neck.

"You want me to take a picture?"

Harry could have sworn the girl grinned mischievously before she opened her mouth again and said, quite loudly, "Daddy!"

Harry just managed to capture the moment before Hermione dropped the book, her face turning an odd shade of purple.

He burst out laughing and fell backwards on the floor again, taking their daughter with him.

"But-what-how-" she spluttered. "I was SURE she would say 'Mummy' first!"

"I...suppose...not..." Harry managed between laughs.

Hermione frowned comically and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

* * *

**April 5, 2006**

The Potter family was having a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Hermione was curled up in an armchair, reading a book as per usual, a steaming mug of peppermint tea on the sidetable next to her.

Harry was laying on the couch, reading that month's issue of _Quidditch Illustrated_ and making remarks here and there about how Quidditch had nothing to do with models on brooms and that the whole thing was ridiculous, but he kept reading it.

Nine-month-old Rosie was sitting on the floor, playing with the bear she'd gotten for Christmas.

Well, if you count picking up said bear and looking at it from every angle for about an hour to find out how it was that it spoke when you squeezed it as playing, then she was playing.

Harry said often that Rosie was her mother, reincarnated.

Finally, she set it down with a huff, angry that she couldn't figure out how it worked, and turned around to stare at her parents. They didn't notice her scrutinizing gaze.

Rosie knew that her parents could do something she couldn't. She wanted to be able to do it too, but she wasn't sure how. She'd been observing how they did it for a long time, but she just couldn't seem to do it herself.

Rosie wanted to walk.

It had something to do with the long things attached to the bottom half that wasn't quite her belly anymore. They had to move. But how? HOW?

Hmm. Maybe she had to see her parents do it again.

So she dragged herself over to the opposite side of the living room carpet.

(Rosie had never learned how to properly crawl. She had hated the idea of only being able to do what her parents could halfway, and with the help of her arms no less. So she ignored her parent's attempts to get her to do so.)

Then, she sat up and opened her mouth and called, "Mummy!"

Hermione's head shot up.

(Rosie was saying "Mummy" and "Daddy" more often now, but she didn't really like to talk all that much. She preferred being quiet. Daddy commented once that she was very unlike Mummy in this regard. Mummy had hit him on the shoulder.)

(Not that Rosie could understand them particularly well anyway, as English still felt funny on her tongue and in her ears.)

"What is it, sweetie?" Hermione asked, standing up.

"Muuuummy!"

Hermione looked at her daughter strangely, but walked over to her. Rosie watched her legs closely, her eyes narrowing.

"Okay, what?" Hermione asked, towering above her. "What's wrong?"

Harry had sat up by now and was watching them, _Quidditch Illustrated_ forgotten.

Rosie dragged herself over to the coffee table, aware of the two pairs of eyes on her, and looked up at the edge. She set her jaw, a determined glint in her eye, and reached her arms up.

Hermione gasped.

The little hands closed around the edge. Rosie smiled, and gave a mighty heave.

She was standing.

It felt so strange. Her legs wobbled, not used to supporting her weight like this, and she almost fell, but she kept her grip on the table.

"Rosie?" her mother whispered, almost afraid to say anything for fear it would distract her and she would fall.

Harry appeared suddenly at Hermione's side, the camera in his hand. He pointed it at his daughter, ready for anything.

Rosie looked down at her legs, and let go with one hand. Her legs seemed to support her, and she pivoted until she was facing her mother.

And then, Rosie let her other hand go.

Hermione let out a small squeak of anxiety, the kind only found in mothers as they watch their child do something that could potentially end up in them getting hurt.

But when she saw the determined look on her daughter's face, the anxiety melted away.

"Come on, Rosie, come to Mummy," Hermione coaxed. "Come on, it's all right, I've got you-"

Rosie lifted her right leg. It felt odd. But she moved it forward, as she'd seen her Mummy and Daddy do, and put it down.

Okay. Now for the left leg.

Up. Forward. Down. Right. Up forward down, left. Up forward down, right…

"Rosie! Oh, Rosie, you're doing it!"

Upforwarddownleftupforwarddownrightupforwarddownle ft-

Suddenly, Rosie felt arms wrap around her. She looked up and saw her mother's face there, looking prouder than ever.

"You did it, sweetie! You walked! You can walk!" Hermione exclaimed, laughing happily.

Harry set his camera down and took his daughter in his own arms, smiling hugely. He was laughing as well.

Rosie laughed too. She loved it when her parents were happy, although she wasn't sure why they made such a big deal about her doing it. They walked all the time. Everyone walked all the time.

"Good job, princess," he said, ruffling her small curls.

_Princess._ Rosie smiled. She rather liked that word.

* * *

Well, that was long.

Review please!


	3. Chapter 3: First Birthday (Part 1)

The guilt of going on hiatus without updating this story was eating away at my soul.

So I updated it. Here it is.

Damn, I break really easily.

DON'T EXPECT MORE UPDATES UNTIL DECEMBER.

Unless I break again.

This is mostly filler, and it actually hurts me how much filler this story has been and no plot. Don't worry. After the hiatus, and the chapter that will come after this one, I'll drop a drama bomb.

~justaclassicgirl

* * *

All too soon, June 2, 2006 was just around the corner, a week away to be exact. Rosella's very first birthday was fast approaching, and Hermione had lots to do.

She had to form a list of people to invite, but that was easy enough to do. Then, she needed to buy decorations and presents, and of course she had to acquire the cake.

Hermione decided to bake one from scratch. That way, she could pretty much put it off until the day before.

She sat down at the dining room table that afternoon with a piece of parchment and a quill. Harry was upstairs entertaining Rosie so she could get some planning done.

Thank goodness for magic, she thought to herself. It will make decorating a hell of a lot easier. And it'll also bring some pizzaz to the party.

She began with the guest list.

Hmm. Well, she definitely had to invite the Weasleys.

She wrote them down, every single one (but Ron and Fred) and their own respective families if they had them.

Neville and Luna, of course, and their baby, Colin.

She wrote them down too, then looked at the painfully long list.

She shook her head quickly. The only reason it was so long was because she chose to write out each Weasley and their significant others and children as well.

But that's Hermione for you. Thorough, precise, perfectionist.

She scanned it quickly once more. Was she missing anybody?

Wait a minute! Teddy should come too, to see his godsister (is that a thing?) turn one.

She scribbled him down at the bottom, adding "Andromeda?" with a question mark after it.

Good. Now, she'd write out an invitation.

Just one would be needed, leaving a blank where the name would go, so she could copy them magically and write in the names by hand. Simple.

She began to write.

Dear _ and family,

You are invited to celebrate Rosella Potter's first birthday!

When: June 2,

Here, she paused. What time would be good for the party?

"HARRY!" she shouted up the stairs.

"WHAT?"

"WHAT TIME SHOULD WE HAVE ROSIE'S BIRTHDAY PARTY?"

A short pause.

"WELL, I HAVE TO GO BACK TO WORK NEXT WEEK."

"WHAT? NO, NOT SO SOON!"

"I'VE BEEN ON LEAVE FOR A YEAR!"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples.

"HOW ABOUT SIX?"

"FINE, WHATEVER WORKS!"

She sat back down at the table, unable to process the fact that Harry would have to go back to work in just one week.

He had been training to be a Healer, deciding that after fighting Voldemort, hunting down similar criminals and the remains of his followers for a living was not something he wanted to do with his future. He wanted to help people in a different way.

Hermione, on the other hand, had quit her job as an Auror ages ago when she was still with Ron. He told her to do so because Auror training was taking too much time away from their relationship. Hermione, happily in love at the time, agreed, and then there was no escaping to work when things got bad with him.

She and Harry had been able to live quite comfortably off of his sole income, and his Gringotts account didn't hurt in the least. But that didn't mean Hermione was going to be a full-time mom. She still wanted to work. Only, now that she thought about it, she really didn't want to be a Auror either. It was too dangerous, now that she was a mother. And anyway, she'd always wanted to work with books, somehow.

She finished the invitation.

Dear _,

You are invited to celebrate Rosella Potter's first birthday!

When: June 2, 6 o'clock PM to 8 o'clock PM

Where: Potter household (3 Godric's Hollow)

We hope to see you there!

Finished and satisfied, Hermione waved her wand and uttered a simple spell. The invitation duplicated itself until she had enough, and then she began the easy but tedious process of writing names in the blank space she had left.

Halfway through, she sighed exhaustedly and folded her arms, resting her head on them on the table. Merlin, but this was awful!

She would just take a short rest. She could finish later.

* * *

Harry came down an hour later, smiling hugely at something his daughter had said. Rosella was nestled in his arms.

Suddenly, she pointed to the table and looked up at her father confusedly.

"Mummy?" she questioned.

Harry chuckled softly and placed Rosie on the floor. She stood immediately, having nearly mastered walking, and toddler off to the living room to play. He neared Hermione and shook her gently.

Her eyes blinked open. "Huh?" she murmured sleepily.

"Need some help?" he asked.

Hermione lifted her head slowly and nodded, but it was laborious, as if her head were made of solid metal.

"Here," Harry said, helping his wife stand. "Go on into the living room with Rosie. I can finish these."

"Okay," she yawned, and staggered away to the living room, whereupon she laid on the couch and immediately fell asleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry was finishing up the invitations. It took him but a few minutes. Once he had completed them all, he cast a spell that had them folding themselves, and he melted wax for the Potter family seal to be pressed into. (Hermione loved seals, so he'd gotten one for her birthday that she could use on everything. The seal was the image of an open book with a lion rising out of it. It was very intricate and beautiful, and Hermione had thanked him quite well for it that night.)

Once the letters were finished, he whistled softly for their owl, Crystal. The owl came flying down from Rosie's bedroom, where she spent most of her time.

Crystal was a beautiful snowy owl that resembled Hedwig, but she was smaller and sleeker, and preferred Hermione to Harry. However, she preferred Rosie to the both of them, and allowed to child to play with her feathers and often nuzzled her like one of her own young. Hermione and Harry had no idea why this was so, but had no problem with it.

"Okay, Crystal," he whispered, "you have a lot of flying to do tonight."

The bird hooted in disdain, but nipped at his fingers affectionately while he tied the first letter to her leg.

"If you can get all of these letters in by tonight, I promise you that you will be handsomely rewarded," he said, and took the owl to the window. "Perhaps you'll get two whole apples all to yourself."

Crystal hooted happily. She loved apples.

"This first letter goes to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the Burrow," Harry told her. "Can you do that?"

Crystal bobbed her head, and set off out the window.

That done, Harry headed to the living room, where his exhausted wife lay on the couch. He chuckled to see her disheveled hair and rumpled clothes. He loved it when she wasn't so put together. It made her look so cute.

Harry looked at his daughter, playing with her dragon and flobberworm on the rug near the fire grate, and grinned. He grabbed an afghan that was hanging over the side of the couch and draped it over Hermione's sleeping form, and then sat down on the floor, picking up the dragon. "Lookout, Frederick!" Rosie called to the flobberworm. "The dragon get you!"

And, right on cue, like any father would, Harry roared ferociously (but not too loudly) and lifted the dragon into a soaring tailspin towards poor Frederick while Rosie laughed and tried to make him inch to safety.


End file.
